


Love in the Time of Massive, Systematic, Racial Inequality and Occasional Overflow of Pain

by Headspacedeficit



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 10:37:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5202707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Headspacedeficit/pseuds/Headspacedeficit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I feel like I need to get this out there? Before the year is up? Seriously, I've been sitting on this since May.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Love in the Time of Massive, Systematic, Racial Inequality and Occasional Overflow of Pain

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I need to get this out there? Before the year is up? Seriously, I've been sitting on this since May.

   They're curled into each other, crammed on Dex's crummy dorm room bed, too still to be sleeping. Baltimore is aflame, Ferguson is barely even limping on its way to recovery and New York's peaceful protests have dissolved under a haze of pepper spray and bloodied bruises. It's spilled over into Manhattan neighborhoods and Nursey's family had to take cover inside. Dex is dozing and trying to coax his boyfriend into doing the same.

    It started going downhill at dinner. Nursey has gone from too angry to too worried to too tired to too anxious since Twitter and then the news started exploding. Dex brought him here to try and distract him but this hits too close to home. Or as Derek had snapped at him, "It's a problem that sticks to my skin." Any other day and that would have made Dex spit out something sarcastic and caustic. He could feel the words burning in his mouth.

    But there was something wrong about the way Nursey took his fingers across his own neck and wrapped his arm around his chest. Tight and rough enough to leave trails from his fingernails. The muscles of his forearm twitching with the effort. The shuddery breath he exhaled sounded like it had rattled around the man's chest with all of the hollow things inside him for too long. When it left, what was there was all fire and steel and a long gaze into nothing that made Dex uncomfortable.

    He stood stock still and ramrod straight and, for a second, looked like one of those portraits that Time magazine published; the kind of picture that wins awards. The gold of dusk lit up against his back throwing the planes of his face into shadow. Dex doesn't know over much about art; can't talk color theory or composition the way Lardo and Jack can: but Chroist. Hand to God, he dared not breathe. Art of the kind that make men and women know an era.

    The moment breaks with the subject's bobbing Adam's Apple. Dex only notices it because Nursey tips his head back just a little to bare his neck. A few sharp clicks punctuate the heavy quiet. They're a lot of things but quiet isn't one of them.

    And Dex can't stand it. Can't stand the squeezing. Can't stand the way his boyfriend can't seem to unclench his jaw or stop clutching at his throat like he needs to drop burning words with no sound to match. He's scared to see raised tendons on those broad palms, still steady and deliberate as always. And he's scared by Derek acting as if he doesn't exist.

    He's scared to touch him. He's scared not to touch him. And there's nothing that he can say to make any of this okay. So he does something a little bit crazy, but today's been so terrible already, so what's one more terrible crazy thing?

    Dex slowly moves to sit on his bed. He shifts, eyes still on Nursey who's a million miles away, and scoots all the way against the wall. He remembers what Holster said about open body language and non verbal communication so he shifts, knees apart and open armed, until he's comfortable. He thinks that he might be a while.

    Nursey's hand unclenches from the soft skin of his neck. For a second, Dex can see the barest outline of a handprint before that hand grabs at bicep and scrabbles to find a grip despite the short sleeve. Nursey is staring at him like he's the only thing he can see and he looks a little too... too much; eyes big, jaw clenched, looking at Dex like if he takes his eyes off him, he'll disappear. Nursey is focused on him like he's the only thing real and it kind of makes his stomach churn. Dex leans forward with a palm offered up with some idea of guiding Nurse onto the bed and thinks of maybe getting out of these jeans later because there's a button digging into his ass and he thinks this is going to have to go slow because-

    The breath leaves him as Derek crumples into his chest and squeezes hard. Derek tries to, there's no other word for it, burrow into Dex and only succeeds at driving him into the wall. The T-shirt is pulled taut over his back and Dex feels rather than sees the jolt when he settles soft fingers there.

    It's easier like this, faces hidden, to hear the things said quietly or not aloud. It's easier for Derek to admit that he's scared and angry. It's easier for Will to admit that he doesn't know what to do. And maybe it doesn't hurt less tangled up like this, but maybe it's easier to bear.

**Author's Note:**

> Flame on? Seriously, tell me what you disagreed with; what mistakes did I make; what's confusing; what are the inaccuracies. Rip it to shreds, nitpick to infinity and whatnot because I don't get better at this writing thing unless people tell me what needs work.


End file.
